


All Around Me

by CrazedPanda



Series: All Around Me [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Age Play, Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 03:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda/pseuds/CrazedPanda
Summary: The Reader and Sam are in an established relationship. The Reader occasionally gets stuck in self-destructive thinking and she and Sam have worked out that scening with mild age play can have a therapeutic effect and allow her to break out of her negative patterns.





	All Around Me

**Author's Note:**

> Not exactly done, but I'm kind of liking what I have so far so I decided to go ahead and post it. I am writing the smut scene that follows, but one, I haven't ascertained whether it will be worthy of posting, and two, I'm not sure whether to include it as a separate chapter or not. 
> 
> This is my first attempt at anything like this, any constructive criticism will be welcome, although I can't promise I will be able to implement all suggestions. 
> 
> Any tag/rating suggestions will be welcome. Sorry, this is my first time posting. 
> 
> I have tried to be neutral as possible with the reader excepting the fact she is female. If any physical characteristics or indications are found, please alert me and I will do my best to fix it. 
> 
> If there is anyone who would like to see this with a male reader, that might actually be interesting to write, I could try my hand at it. 
> 
> If the mood strikes I plan to go on to write more in this same work, possibly more scenes, maybe even some prequels to show how they started their relationship/how they began scening.

 Sam was easily in his third unbroken hour working at his translation of the second century text on werewolves. You all pitched in whenever there was a long enough break between hunts, attempting to catalogue the vast resources the bunker held. Sam, however, was notorious for taking it farther than was perhaps healthy when deep in the lore, and had been scolded by you and Dean on numerous occasions.

 A slight noise broke his concentration and he blinked and stretched the kink out of his neck as he looked up from his desk to meet your gaze. His sheepish grin faltered. Something was wrong.

 He had assumed he was in for a chewing out leading to you gently harassing him into resting his eyes and taking a snack break (hopefully with some cuddling on the side that with any luck would turn into . . . something more).

 Instead you were holding onto the door frame like you were too shy to pass the threshold into his room. You were absent-mindedly worrying the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth, and when you finally managed to bring your eyes to meet his for a brief second, the pain and guilt apparent there almost brought him to tears.

 Whatever had happened, you were beating yourself up about it. He knew what you needed. He pushed his chair back and opened his arms, making sure to project calm and safety in his movements and voice. “Come here, baby girl.”

 You shuffled over and buried your head in his chest as he scooped you up to sit sideways in his lap. His arms wrapped around you like a cocoon and just sat with you like that for a while. He knew you would talk when you could.

 He could feel your breathing even out and the smallest amount of tension leave your body and he felt a rush of pride. The two of you had been through this process enough that you trusted Sam would take care of you. You weren't scared of him or of anything that would come next. Together, you had discovered the best way to help you untangle the snarl of emotions that would sometimes surpass your ability to sort through on your own, and by now you knew Sam would never judge you or deal with you harshly as you imagined you deserved.

 You took a deep breath and Sam relaxed his hold enough that you could lean back to face him. Your voice was small and you struggled to keep your eyes on his. “Daddy . . .”

 It was your code, and it was all he needed to confirm his guess about where this was heading. He brushed some hair away from your face, “What is it, baby girl? Tell me and we'll fix it. Together.”

 You played with one of the buttons on his shirt to give your eyes something to focus on. He allowed it even though he hated feeling like he was being shut out. The two of you had discussed it and he knew why you could talk more easily during these times when you weren't looking right at him.

 “I know I said I'd do the laundry, but I forgot.”

 Hmm, they often took turns doing chores around the bunker, but forgetting wasn't a huge crime and it was not even four in the afternoon - time enough to do a couple of loads at least. He waited for you to continue.

 “I found a hunter’s journal in the library and I lost track of time . . . I didn't finish the research I was supposed to be doing on the witch-binding spell, either.”

 Okay, again, not something that was at all a big deal. It wasn't like you didn't pitch in on a regular basis or didn't deserve to read just for pleasure every once in awhile. Neither did they have a particular plan for that spell that would demand it get done asap - they had found a reference to it yesterday in one of the men of letters records and you'd volunteered to see if you couldn't find out more about it, that was it.

 He tapped your back and you forced your eyes back to his so he could read your expression. Ah, you weren't stalling exactly, whatever had really triggered this situation had sent you into a spiral of self-loathing that was causing you to unfairly chastise yourself for these perceived failures as well.

 “Hmm, those don't seem like anything serious. We still have time to do the laundry, I wouldn't mind helping if you'd like. And I'm glad you found something interesting that you enjoyed reading. Maybe you can tell me about it later? You can work on the spell tomorrow if you want, there's no rush. Was there something else you wanted to talk about, baby?”

 Your eyes grew shiny from unshed tears, “My sister called . . .”

 Here we go. Sam struggled to keep his face neutral. Your older sister had a way of pushing all your buttons and, when she was in the mood, wouldn't let up until she got the reaction she wanted from you. She had a hand in the reason your mind went into this self-recrimination mode - a pattern that traced back from when you were children.

 Needless to say, she was not one of Sam's favorite people, but seeing his censure was not what you needed right now. Chances were good you'd misinterpret it as directed toward yourself, but either way it would just distress you. He rubbed your back reassuringly and you swallowed before continuing.

 “I yelled at her and was rude and she hung up on me. I don't know why I'm so stupid! I let her push me around and I cave and do just what she wants - Argh!” you clenched your hands to your temples and let your forehead hit Sam's chest.

 Your chest was heaving, but you weren't crying. Your anger and frustration at your sister's behavior had come back at the memory of the phone conversation and was now warring with your self-blame.

 Sam waited a few moments before tapping your back again. You leaned back and looked into his eyes obediently, but with a little difficulty.

 “That's a lot for you to carry. Let's sort through this and see what's actually on you, okay?

 “First off, it's best if we do what we say we'll do, but everyone gets distracted and forgets things sometimes. And you know you can take a break when you need one, no one's policing you.”

 “I felt like I was an idiot who couldn't even remember one simple thing. Like I just failed at everything today.”

 “I know, baby, but that's not true, is it? You meant to do it, and we know you are always willing to help with whatever needs done, the only thing you did was forget. That doesn't make you bad or stupid, that means you made a mistake because you're human, right?”

 You nodded - hesitantly, but Sam could tell you were doing your best to let his words sink in.

 “Now let's look at the other thing. You are not responsible for your-”  _ (freaking bitch of a)  _ “-sister being rude, unkind, or manipulative. You don't own anything she said to get a rise out of you, and you definitely aren't to blame for her choosing to hang up on you-”  _ (like a bitch) _ “You also don't need to feel guilty for standing up for yourself. The only thing you are at fault for is losing control, because that hurts you too, doesn't it?”

 You nodded, “Yeah.”

 “Can you tell me some things we've talked about that you could have done?”

 “Told her ‘she's being rude and if she continues I'll have to hang up.’”

 “And if she didn't stop?”

 “I should have told her ‘I love her, but I can't talk to her when she's being hurtful,’ and then hung up.”

 “Good girl. Can you tell me another solution we've talked about?”

 You looked chagrined as you remembered and your gaze dropped back down to the button before coming back to meet Sam's again. “I could have brought the phone in here, or texted you to come in there, so you could back me up and help me not play her game.”

 “That's right, and I want to apologize for being shut in here so long. I lost track of time too, or maybe I would have been nearby to help.”

 Your eyes went wide and you shook your head in denial. “It wasn't your fault!”

 Sam suppressed a grimace. The temptation to blame himself was strong and as rooted in his psyche as it was in yours, but he couldn't be hypocritical. “No, you're right, but I take responsibility for the part that is on me. The fact is, there's a strong possibility I could have been there when you needed me if I had been taking breaks like I'm supposed to. You and Dean have both spoken to me about it before, and I'm sorry.”

 “I, I forgive you, Sam.” His name passed your lips as the barest whisper. He understood. You wanted him to feel the full sincerity of your forgiveness. You typically were careful not to use his name during these times since what you called him indicated what you needed from him.

 He rubbed your back. “Thank you, precious girl. How are you feeling?”

 “A little - better? Still bad. I'm so sorry, Daddy.”

 Sam nodded. Something that had tangled you up that much wasn't usually solved by talking. “Can you repeat back to me what you're sorry for? Only what was in your control, please.”

 “I forgot and didn't do what I said I would do. And I lost control and yelled instead of doing what we'd talked about.”

 “Very good.” Sam could feel your pulse pick up a little and you fidgeted slightly, but that was to be expected, you didn't seem afraid or panicky. He continued to the next step. “Now can we think about what we're going to do to keep it from happening again?”

 “Um, don't forget things?” He chuckled in relief at the quirk of your eyebrow and the flash of humor in your eyes.

 “You know that no one expects you to never forget anything, right? You're human. We all forget things from time to time, and sometimes we make mistakes, but we cover for each other, because we're a family. I wouldn't have even cared or thought anything of it if you hadn't finished the laundry or done any work on the spell, but it's bothering you so I'll give you a reminder - if that's what you need?”

 You gripped his shirt hem and chewed on your lip for a brief moment before looking up into his face again. You nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”

 He brushed a hand over your hair. “What about the other thing?”

 “Oh, next time she calls, I'll remember to get you right away. Either ask her to hold on til I can get in the same room as you, or text you. Then I won't feel so alone. And you'll help me know when it's time to hang up.”

 “Good. One more thing, baby, then we can move on. Do you remember when you were telling me you  _ felt _ like an idiot for forgetting? Why was that really good?”

 “I was just telling you how I feel. I didn't call myself an idiot. I wasn't badmouthing myself.”

 “And that's very important, right? The most important thing next to keeping yourself safe. You can  _ always _ tell me how you feel. I need you to tell me, so we can talk about it and fix it if you're feeling something that's not true. What is the one thing you're not supposed to do, ever?”

 “Say bad things about myself, or call myself bad names.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because they hurt you. And they hurt me. And they're lies, and I'm not supposed to lie.”

 “That's right. You remembered that time, and I'm proud of you for it, but earlier, when you were talking about the phone call, you said you were stupid.”

 Your eyebrows shot up and you gripped the front of his shirt again. You knew it was the one thing he took most seriously. He could see your breathing pick up a little and he waited in silence, just cradling you as you worked through it.

 When you spoke, your voice was steady, “I don't remember, but I know I was thinking it. I'm sorry, Daddy.”

 “I forgive you, baby. I know getting in a fight with your sister makes you feel that way, but you cannot accept it as the truth. You aren't stupid, you're so smart, and good, and thoughtful, and kind. You're my good girl and I won't let anyone say mean things about you in front of me. Anyone.”

 Your bottom lip trembled slightly and you nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

 “Okay, are you ready, or do you want to sit for a moment? Or is there anything else you want to talk about first?”

 “No, nothing else. I think I'd just like to get it over with, now.”

 “I don't blame you. C'mon up.” He steadied you as you climbed out of his lap. He reached for the button on your jeans and carefully undid it and pulled the zipper down. He really didn't want to drag this out, but he also wanted to make sure you had a chance to call it off if you weren't ready or had changed your mind. With equal care he pulled your jeans down to your knees.

 He stood and took your hand, crossing over to his bed, taking even smaller steps than he normally would to account for your jeans impeding your movement. He sat down and guided you to stand between his legs and bend over his lap. You gripped the back of his shirt with one hand and the blankets with the other.

 He could feel your breathing pick up again and he rubbed soothing circles into the small of your back. Again, he knew the sooner he started, the sooner it would be done, but he wanted to make sure you were okay - the point of this wasn't to give you a panic attack.

 He could feel you relax and you patted his back with the hand that was twisted in his shirt. “I'm okay. “

 “Okay. I'm going to start with the reminder you asked for. I really don't think you deserve anything for forgetting a couple chores for a few hours, but since you're feeling guilty . . . It won't be bad, though.”

 He started giving even strokes with his hand over your underwear. He started at the top of your bottom and alternated left and right working his way down. The force was only enough to produce a mild sting. He could feel you exhale with the strokes, but the dozen or so he gave you weren't enough to draw any other noises from you.

 He paused and rubbed your back so you would know the first part was over. You seemed fine, your breathing was already back to normal, and you had relaxed across his lap. “How are you doing, baby?”

 “I'm okay. I'll try to remember to do what I said I was going to, next time.”

 “Good girl, I know you will.” He rubbed your back for another second before patting it. “I'm going to pull your underwear down for the next part, okay?”

 “Okay, Daddy.” You lifted and shimmied your hips as he pulled your undies down to rest with your jeans at your knees.

 Sam laid his hand on your back again. He could feel your breathing start to hitch back up and you shifted your feet nervously. “Baby girl, you're right, your sister shouldn't have that much control over you. You aren't responsible for the way she treats you, but you can choose how you respond. That's why we made a plan, so you would know what to do. So you wouldn't have to deal with her on your own. You're not bad or stupid, this part is just to remind you of our plan next time you get that phone call.”

 “Yes, Daddy.” There was a small whimper in your voice and you gripped his shirt tighter.

 He started spanking a little faster than before and with significantly more force as well. He was less methodical, giving two or three strokes before switching to the other side, some of them landed in the same place and that was the first time you yelped in response. A dozen more swats and all the strokes were now landing in an area he'd already gone over, causing your yelps to turn into small cries.

 He let it go on around another fifteen swats and then stopped. Your breathing was coming in huffs and there were tears in your eyes, but you weren't really crying yet. Your grip in his shirt didn't lessen even after the rest of you started to relax slightly from the circles he was tracing on your back. He let you just breathe for a minute.

 “Are you okay?”

 A sniffle, “Yes, Daddy.”

 “You're doing really well, sweet girl. In just a second, I'm going to get you some tissues . . . ” His voice went very low, “and the hairbrush.”

 You froze and he kept up the gentle rubbing on your back until your breathing had calmed down a little. “Is it okay if I move you?”

 “Yes.” your voice was muffled by the blanket. He gently gripped your waist and maneuvered you and his legs until you were fully supported by the bed and he was sitting next to you.

 “I'm going to be right back, baby girl.” He went over to his nightstand grabbing the tissue and opening the drawer to retrieve his brush. He sat back down next to you placing the brush near his knee on the opposite side from you and the tissue box behind him after removing a couple. He rested his hand on your back. “Stand up, please.”

 You did, only a little wobbly, but Sam offered you his hand and he supported you as you came back to face him between his knees. You tried not to look at the brush. He gave you the tissues and you blew. “We can save it till later if you need a break.”

 “No, please, Daddy, I'd rather it just be over.” Your voice trembled a little, but you looked up at him, trusting. That and your use of the codeword soothed his doubts about continuing.

 “Do you know why I'm using the hairbrush?”

 You hesitated, “Because it's really important to you that I don't say bad things about myself.”

 “Very important. I need you to remember. Everything else you've done that we've talked about like this, is not as big a deal to me, but this - you're directly hurting yourself, tearing yourself down from the inside. I can't just watch you do it, love.”

 Fresh tears sprang to your eyes and you reached for him. He held you to him for a few moments until you let go to pat his leg. “I'm ready, Daddy.”

 He bent you back over his lap gripping your legs securely between his. You renewed your tight grasp on Sam's shirt and the blankets and he turned slightly. “You've got it?” You nodded. “If you need a break, tell me. I do not want to hit your hand with this.”

 “Yes, Daddy.”

 He picked up the wooden brush from under his knee and brought it down with a CRACK on your right sit spot.

 Your yelp turned into a choked sob. He paused briefly before swiftly bringing it down three more times: left, left, right.

 “AH-ho- _ fuuck _ !”

 Sam's eyebrow went up in surprise. You typically avoided cursing while in the middle of a scene. He didn't want to find it amusing, especially considering he was causing you pain, but he couldn't help his lip quirking upward. At least you couldn't see him.

 Apparently, you knew him well enough you didn't have to see him. “It's not funny, you jerk, that thing is evil! Please just get it over with . . . Daddy.”

 Your voice was muffled and suspiciously wet sounding, but your tone didn't suggest you were actually mad at him. At least your sense of humor was still intact.

 “Sorry.” He chose a rhythm of giving two or three swift strikes and giving you a beat to breathe in between. He hadn't reached the tenth strike before you were sobbing steadily even through the pauses. Your grip on his shirt was like a vise. He kept count in his head and gave you fifteen more ending with a few smacks to your upper thighs.

 He put the ‘evil’ implement down behind him and just rested his hand on your back as your sobs continued. When they started to wind down he reached for the tissues and passed you a couple. It took you a second to release your hold on the blanket and take them. Your other hand remained tightly wound in his shirt as you blew.

 Sam began to gently rub your back as you continued to cry silently. You sniffed and managed a hoarse whisper, “Thank you, Daddy.”

 “Of course, my precious girl. Do you think you can stand up?”

 You nodded and he helped you, you gripped his hand as tightly as you had been his shirt and he guided you to lay down on your stomach on the bed, removing your jeans all the way. He crawled up next to you and lay there soothing your hair and passing you tissues until your tears finally stopped.

 He gently pulled your underwear back into place, careful not to drag the fabric against your bruised skin and grabbed a wet washcloth to wipe your face.

 “You did so well, baby girl.” He murmured, kissing your forehead before returning to lie next you again. He held you until your breathing evened out to the point where he almost thought you'd fallen asleep.

 “Sam?” your voice sounded raw.

 He leaned back slightly so he could see your face and tucked a few stray wisps of hair behind your ear. “I'm sorry, y/n, I should have got you some water. What is it?”

 You attempted to clear your throat.

 “Water first?”

 You nodded with a smile which Sam returned before pressing a kiss to your forehead and scooting off the bed.

 He was back moments later and steadied you while you leaned up on one elbow to drink the water he'd brought. Once you finished, you scooted back down and patted the bed questioningly.

 He returned to his former position and wrapped his arms back around you, leaving enough space that you could see each other and talk.

 You touched his face, smoothing his forehead. “Are you okay, Sam?”

 He grunted a laugh, “Am  _ I _ okay? I'm the one who busted your ass . . .”

 You quirked your eyebrow at him, but didn't reply.

 He grinned ruefully. “I'm okay. Are you okay? Was it too much? Was there anything you needed that I didn't do? Or anything I did that was wrong?”

 It was your turn to look rueful, “I'm afraid you're going to lose your brush to a mysterious and tragic accident. That thing is seriously wicked . . .”

 You shook your head and returned to look at him “but, no. It wasn't too much. You took care of me during the whole thing and I was never scared - I know you'd never be cruel, Sam. Even while I hated that and hope I never see it again, I felt, well, loved, ‘cause I know that's why you take that so seriously.”

 “I'm glad. You feel better?”

 “Everything except my bum, yeah. I'm still a little embarrassed to ask you for that - that I need that from you.”

 “Well you don't need to be. It's obvious it calms you and allows you to accept the help you need. I don't like causing you pain, but a little surface pain isn't as bad as how torn up you were before.”

 You snorted. “A little surface pain, huh? I think one of these days I'm gonna find a reason to use that torture device on you.”

 “Hey, you know there's only the one reason I bring that out. You don't want to see it, refrain from badmouthing my girlfriend, it's that simple. You want to try putting your pants back on?”

 “Hmm, I'm more interested in trying to get yours off.”

 “Oh?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
